Duel Me?
by Dimfuin
Summary: Faramir and Eowyn have been married for two years or so, and they still love each other as passionately as ever. Fluffy in the first chapter, a bit angsty in the second.
1. Default Chapter

**A/N:** This is another of my fluffy, angsty Faramir/Eowyn stories;-) It's a bit shorter than the others, and, I must admit, not finished yet, so bear with me! I have one more chapter after this written. When I get a sufficient amount of reviews, I'll post more.

**Disclaimer:**We all know about the LOTR stuff, so I'm just gonna skip that. The song that Eowyn sings is from _The Prince of Egypt_, so I don't own that. I did, however, change one word in it: it is originally stream instead of breeze, but stream wouldn't have made much sense, so I changed that. Hope it's not illegal;-)

And now, without further ado...

**

Duel Me?

**

_

By Dimfuin

_

Eowyn opened her eyes to the bright sunshine streaming through the windows of her bedroom. It cast a big block of golden light over the covers and she lay for a minute soaking in the warmth, gazing out the windows in admiration. She used to think Rohan's mornings were beautiful, but they were nothing compared to the freshness of mornings in Ithilien. She especially liked them from her room, because it had been built high up with many windows and always seemed as if it were floating above the lovely gardens and trees surrounding the house.

The sound of singing echoed out of the room adjoining the bedroom and Eowyn furrowed her brow, trying to make out some of the words. It was in Elvish, and though her husband had been teaching it to her for some time, she was still in the dark about much of the lovely language. However, she thought she could gather that it was the tale of Beren and Luthien that Faramir was singing.

Eowyn shut her eyes and drank in the peace of the moment, wanting to get up but not quite ready. She stretched her arms above her head languidly and felt herself beginning to slip back into a dream state....

WHOOSH! Cold air sucked at her limbs as the blanket was pulled off of her and she sat bolt upright, clutching at her nightgown and drawing it tight around her legs to ward off the chill air.

"Faramir!" she yelled, looking around for the culprit. He came out of the door of his study with an innocent expression, still holding a book in one hand.

"My lady?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Eowyn was not fooled.

"How did you do it?" she demanded, gathering the covers back up and trying to put them over herself again. "I know it was you---don't try to deny it!"

"What was me? What did I do?" Faramir set the book down and advanced towards the bed but was stopped by Eowyn's withering look.

"Well if it wasn't you, would you mind telling me how exactly my covers got pulled off?" Eowyn's rage was quickly ebbing away but she fought to hold onto it. She loved the hurt expression her husband faked when she was mad at him.

Faramir smiled and knelt by the end of the bed, pulling back a thick blanket and then suddenly laughing. Eowyn put her hands on her hips.

"What, pray, is so amusing this early in the morning, my lord?" Eowyn asked.

"First," Faramir said, still chuckling, "It's not early in the morning. Eowyn, love, it's close to ten o' clock! And second, I think we found the culprit." He held up a small dog with black ears and a white spot on his nose. Eowyn's remaining anger melted away.

"Ooh...Eo, how did you escape cook? Come here you little angel," she crooned, taking the dog from Faramir's hands and cuddling it in her arms. "You're such a good puppy, yes you are!"

Faramir sat on the edge of the bed with a hurt air. "So, Eowyn, when you thought I was the villain you were prepared to punish me, but now that you know it was Eo, you do nothing!"

Eowyn laughed and set the dog on the bed. "Faramir, you know very well I love you more than any old dog. Of course, I simply can't remember the last time we kissed."

"Then you possess a very short memory, my wife, because I recall distinctly kissing a certain blonde-haired blue-eyed woman last night. But if you can't remember, I'm happy to refresh your memory." He leaned forward and took Eowyn in his arms, but as he bent his head to kiss her, a cry erupted from the cradle in the corner and Eowyn pulled away.

"Oh, Elboron!" she cried, jumping up, "Don't cry sweetie!" She bent and took the baby from the crib, rocking it gently. Faramir leaned back.

"And now it is the baby that bests me, eh Eowyn? Ah, but I suppose I am destined to be always second best," Faramir said in a light jesting tone, but Eowyn stopped walking.

"Did you have another dream?" she asked, coming closer. Faramir looked surprised.

"Nay, I had a very restful night," he smiled.

"Then what is wrong? You don't often use that tone of voice with me, nor that expression. Have I been ignoring you? Have you found something to remind you of your brother? It was not one of your father's books, was it?"

"Stop!" Faramir cried, jumping up and crossing the room in two strides to Eowyn's side. He wrapped his arms around her and looked into her eyes, ignoring the baby between them. "I was jesting, Eowyn, but it was in bad taste. I am sorry. I should not have said it."

Eowyn breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. I just wanted to make sure."

Faramir smiled into her eyes, entwining his hand with her free one. With a swift motion he leaned forward and placed a kiss on her lips, and then took the baby out of her arms. He tossed Elboron up and the baby giggled happily as he reached tiny grasping fingers down and caught his father's hair.

"Ow!" Faramir cried as the child yanked, and Eowyn swiftly reached for the baby. Faramir fended her off. "Nay, I don't mind. I've felt much worse pain in my life, Eowyn."

Eowyn laughed and turned toward the closet to choose a dress for the day as a maid scurried in and, seeing her mistress awake, hastened to help her prepare herself for the day.

_

Later...

_

"Hush now, my baby, be still love don't cry,

Sleep as you're rocked by the breeze.

Sleep and remember my last lullaby,

So I'll be with you when you dream."

Eowyn's sweet voice shushed her baby gently as she rocked back and forth in the rocking chair and held her son. Elboron cooed sleepily and closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep slowly.

"What was that, Eowyn?" asked a soft voice from the doorway, and Eowyn looked up.

"An old Rohirric lullaby, Faramir. 'Twas just to make the baby sleep." She stood gently and tip-toed over to the cradle, setting her child down inside.

"How well my shield-maiden has settled into her motherly ways," Faramir murmured, coming up behind her and gazing at their son. Eowyn snorted ungracefully, though still quietly.

"I could still beat a man at swordplay any old day," she boasted, smiling. Faramir cocked an eyebrow.

"Indeed?" he asked.

"Of course!" Eowyn laughed. An impish look stole into her eyes. "My love," she began, turning toward her tall husband, "I do not believe I have ever battled you."

"What are you saying, Eowyn?" Faramir asked, putting his arms around her.

"Hmmm...can it be that I might be challenging you?" she asked, flicking a lock of hair out of his eyes.

"Eowyn, you have just had a child not eight months ago, and you've had no practice for weeks! You forget also that you are Gondor nobility now, love," Faramir smiled.

With another unladylike sound, Eowyn pushed herself away from her husband. "That's all you know! I practice daily, Faramir my love. I could beat you easily."

"Eowyn," Faramir said, growing a little exasperated, "think of what would happen if we DID do this. For either of us to lose would be degrading and improper."

"And who said anything I did was proper? Why do you love me, Faramir?" Eowyn asked, suddenly earnest.

Faramir raised his eyebrows. "Why? Because you are the soul of everything I love: you are beautiful, intelligent, lively, fiery, and you're spirit is so free. You are everything I am not."

Eowyn laughed. "Go back to "lively" and "your spirit is so free", Faramir." Eowyn came up and put her arms around her husband. "Do you except my challenge?" she demanded.

Faramir stared into her blue eyes for a long moment before finally saying, "Very well, sweet wife. In a weeks time?"

Eowyn nodded. "One week."


	2. Part Two

**A/N:** I couldn't resist keeping you waiting for the duel just a _little_ longer, so here's part two. And I couldn't resist adding a touch of angst, like all my stories, so forgive me for that. I hope you enjoy this story as much as the others, and don't forget to review!

**Duel Me?: Part Two**

_By Dimfuin_

Faramir picked a book out of the stack and glanced around for his wife. When she did not appear, he settled down amid the rest of the books with a mischievous smile and began reading.

Ever since Faramir could read, he had loved it more than anything. The world he found in books drew him in and held him close like a dear friend. It didn't matter whether it was a history book, an ancient ballad, or a book on sword making; he loved them all. Often they were the only thing in which he found comfort, back in the dark days with his father. It never seemed to matter that he would be in trouble when he was found, if only he could escape in the world of books for a few precious hours.

In the Houses of Healing, too, books were the main source of comfort. As his body had healed, he had found that his mind, too had needed healing, and in books he had found the most comfort.

Of course, it was not until he met Eowyn that his HEART had been healed. The ironic thing about Eowyn, he often reflected, was that a few weeks earlier he would never have dreamed of marrying and being happy. The emotional low he had experienced on that day---that fateful day when he was wounded---was such that he truly wished to be killed. The whole day seemed to be covered in a gray mist, and Faramir wasn't sure whether that was because he was over-tired or because of the Black Breath he had endured. Probably both.

In any case, his love of books had lasted throughout his entire life. His wife, he found, was not overly fond of books, and while that did not bother him in the least, his own love of the objects wasn't stinted. He tried not to read around her and do things that she enjoyed, but when he was alone, well...

Two hours later found Faramir still sitting in the same position, completely wrapped up in the book of Gondorian myths he had found. He did not even notice when Eowyn crept into the room and smiled a quiet smile to herself.

As she gazed at her husband, she allowed herself to think about the first time they had met. She had been impatient, condescending. She had expected to be led to some pompous fool just like the Warden of the Houses of Healing who would pat her on the head and tell her to go back to bed like a good little girl. But instead she had been led to him. He had been lean, sallow and tired looking. Dark circles under his eyes showed the lack of sleep, and something in his gaze told her that this man had suffered every bit as much grief as she had. But even the weariness and overburdened look of the young man had not dampened his good looks and proud lift of face. Something deep inside of her had whispered that here was a man with a spirit that would not break. Indeed, it had been bent to the utter limits, and was still in danger of collapsing, but she knew that it would not break. And something even deeper inside of her, something that she did not hear for a long, long time, told her that she would marry this man.

But she had also been tested to the breaking point, and she was bitter towards all mankind. And so instead of listening and following this advice, she had turned the other way. Why, she had practically alienated him from her! It scared her how close she had come to losing him and all of the joy she had found since. It was only the insight and perseverance of him who she loved that made her realize what she was throwing away.

Eowyn shook herself and took her eyes off her husband's face, which was reading intently. Every so often he would turn a page, but other than that there was no sound in the small room. With another smile, Eowyn reached down and picked up a book. The sudden sound made Faramir look up, and he grinned a little sheepishly.

"Did you think I would not find you, Faramir?" Eowyn asked good-naturedly.

"Nay, I had no hope of that," he smiled. With one last look at the book, he laid it down and stretched his arms. "I am sorry for sneaking off, Wyn. I just wanted to read for a few hours."

"Of course, my love. Why should you not?" Eowyn sat down next to him and he put his arm around her. "Faramir?"

"Yes?"

"Do you sometimes wish you had married a more studious wife?" she asked timidly.

"Never," he murmured. "Just because I love literature does not mean I do not love you!"

"Well, they say opposites attract," she smiled. There was a small pause in which his hand found hers and they sat in peace. "I was...thinking," Eowyn went on.

"Yes?" he asked absently.

"About the past. About the first day I saw you," she said softly. "How thin and tired looking you were."

Faramir laid his head on top of hers. "Those were dark days. I still remember how I felt, after I was wounded. But I was destined to have a glimmer of light in my life."

"And I too," Eowyn smiled. "'Twas only you, Faramir, who brought me back from the dark. Aragorn healed me physically, but only one man could capture my heart and rescue me from the shadow."

Faramir planted a light kiss on her cheek, and then they sat in silence for a little while longer. Eowyn trailed a finger over his sleeve, looking intently at it, then up at her husband's still face.

"Faramir?" she asked.

"Mmm?" he answered, twirling a strand of her hair around his finger. She reached up and took his hand, looking deep into his eyes. He immediately stopped and looked serious.

"I ask you this because I am your wife, and I love you. I care for you, Faramir," Eowyn began.

"What is it, Eowyn?" Faramir asked, his eyes clouding. "Tell me."

Eowyn took a deep breath. "Why do you still wear black?"

Faramir caught his breath and drew his hand back from Eowyn's own hand, but she caught it and pressed it to her heart. "Forgive me, I mean no harm. But I am your wife, and if there is something troubling you, I---"

Faramir held a hand up to Eowyn's lips to stop her from speaking further. He smiled weakly and said in a whisper, "You caught me off guard, my love. I am not hurt." He paused and began massaging Eowyn's hand in his own. "The truth is, I have not thought much about it. It is natural for me to wear black. I suppose it has been ingrained in me. When my father was alive, I was expected to wear black to all social functions, and I normally wore it anyway. I assumed it suited me, and my life, best."

"But not anymore!" Eowyn insisted. "We have been married for nigh on two years!"

Faramir nodded slowly. "Aye, perhaps it is time for me to change. But, please, allow me to do it in my own time."

Eowyn smiled. "My love, I could care less what you wear. I only wish you to be happy."

Faramir sighed and drew her close once more. "I love you, Eowyn."

"And I love you, my strong man," Eowyn whispered. Suddenly, she sat upright and a sparkle entered her eyes again. "Faramir! I've just remembered something!"

Faramir laughed. "What is it, oh vivacious one?" he asked.

Eowyn ignored him, and the mood continued to lighten. "'Twas a week ago tomorrow that you promised me you would duel me!"

Faramir sighed in mock exasperation. "Ah, will you never forget?"

"Never," she smiled, leaning in until their noses touched. "Tomorrow you will duel me. And don't forget!"

"Alright, alright. We shall take our swords for a ride and find some secluded place to fight where no one can watch us," Faramir laughed. "Will that suit?"

Eowyn wrinkled her nose. "Well, I suppose. Though I should enjoy beating you with an audience, I will allow you to have your peace."

Faramir grinned and caught her as she began toward the doorway. "Stop it, you indecent man!" she growled, fighting to get out of his arms.

"Of all the things I have been called," Faramir said as he wrestled her to the ground and bent in for a kiss, "I do not ever recall being named as such." And he kissed her.

"Well!" she said breathlessly, smiling up at him. "To all those who think you a gentle and reserved man...they have never felt your kiss upon them!"

Faramir laughed and helped her up. "Did I ruffle a few feathers, my lady love?" he asked.

"Never," she grinned. "Never ever ever."


	3. Part Three

**A/N:** Sorry for the long delay...I was working at a camp for two weeks etc... I hope this chapter is good;-) I know it's not AT ALL what most of you would have been thinking it would be like, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

**

Duel Me?: Part Three

**

_By Dimfuin_

Early the next morning Faramir and Eowyn saddled up their horses and set out for the hills. It wasn't safe to go extremely far away, but Faramir knew the valleys and mountains of Ithilien well enough (after twenty years) to know which were safe and which were not.

The morning was crisp and chilly, and the dew stood sparkling from every blade of grass. Both horses seemed eager and excited to be on their way, and their hooves crunched the ground merrily. Eowyn's white horse had bells attached to her harness which rang merrily in a fairy-delicate way as they trotted briskly over the fields. The sky was just turning pink in the east when they set out, and both were wrapped in cloaks.

Faramir turned his head the tiniest bit to see Eowyn riding along with her hair blowing in the breeze, wearing his mother's cloak. Every time she went out she wore it, saying that she felt secure and comfortable in it.

"It smells like you, Faramir," she would smile, resting her eyes on his face with love in her eyes. "And like the happiness in your life." Then her eyes would cloud over and she would reach up to touch the scar shaped like a crescent on his cheek. It took a lot of self-control for him not to flinch away when she did that. "There was not enough of that, Faramir. Not enough happiness," she would breath so quietly he had to strain to catch the words. And then he would cup her face in his hands and bring it close to his own.

"You have made me happy, Eowyn. I can forget the rest," he would murmur. And then she would smile and be herself again.

Faramir stirred from his thoughts and shook his hands to fight off the cold. "It will warm up when the sun rises," he said so that Eowyn could hear. "It's always cold in Ithilien before the sun rises."

"Tell me about Ithilien," Eowyn smiled. She turned her head and cocked an eyebrow.

Faramir turned and took in the sweeping vista before him. "Well, it's name means the Land of the Moon, Eowyn. 'Twas once the garden of Gondor before the darkness of Mordor overshadowed it. My grandfather, Ecthelion the II, once told---"

"Faramir!" Eowyn laughed, and he stopped.

"What is it, my love?" His tone conveyed his confusion. Eowyn seemed to be having a hard time getting a grip on her emotions.

"I did not mean the history of the place, though I'm sure you'll be more than happy to tell it to me in it's full and unabridged entirety. What I meant was, please tell me of when you were a commander here. What went on? And do not forget that I myself am not in the least unfamiliar with battles and such," Eowyn smiled.

Faramir nodded slowly. "Ah, I see." He fell silent for a long moment and the only sound was the crunching of the horses hooves. "Well, I was sent out here when I was twenty. I never quite knew why...perhaps it was because my father wanted to get me out of the way.

"Anyway, it was a rough life. For a lad whose never been in the army before and doesn't necessarily like fighting, 'twas hard indeed. But I suppose I am grateful my father sent me. And after a while I learned to like the life of a ranger, after its own way.

"What I really learned to love, though, was the wild rambling beauty of the place. It made me so sad to see first hand what had become of the garden I had read about in my books. I used to sit perfectly still, when my watch came, and listen to the gentle breeze and the insects at night. The moon always looks so full here. Not like in Minis Tirith."

Eowyn smiled. "And that? Tell me about Minis Tirith."

Faramir fell silent and busied himself with the buckle of the horses reigns. "There is not much to tell, my lady. It is the city I have defended since I was a lad."

"But surely you had a special place you liked to go to, like here. It was your home, was it not?" Eowyn pried.

"I suppose," Faramir said vaguely. Suddenly he turned on her. "But Eowyn, this is not fair! You have asked me about my home, and I have not had a chance to ask you about yours. Tell me of Rohan."

Eowyn smiled. "It truly is wild there, my lord. I must admit that I never thought about it like that until I came here, but it is. Even the wildness of Ithilien seems tame compared to the windswept plains of Rohan."

Faramir smiled. "Do you miss it?"

"Yes, yes I suppose I do. But I---"

"Go on," Faramir said.

"I did not see much of it, in the last few years of my life. Before the War of the Ring, that is. I was with my Uncle much," Eowyn explained.

"I see," Faramir replied. "Yes," he went on. "It has been long years since I visited Edoras, or even Rohan. There has been much to do here."

They rode on in silence for a long time, until Faramir slowed his horse and Eowyn followed suit.

"Do you like this spot, Eowyn?" Faramir asked.

Eowyn looked around and nodded. "Aye, it looks about right for a sword match. Shall we?"

They dismounted and stretched a bit from the ride. Faramir shot a glance over to his wife and asked, "Do you plan to fight in a dress, my love?"

Eowyn laughed and, with an impish smile, turned around. "Unlace me, Faramir, and I believe you will find a surprise underneath."

Faramir grinned and unlaced her dress. Indeed, underneath he found a shirt and, as she pulled the garment off, a pair of breeches made their appearance.

"My lady," he smiled, "You ARE full of surprises today!"

"And more are coming," she said impishly. From the saddle she pulled a sheathed sword, and, just as the sun came up, she drew it forth and swept it through the air. "Kshdagnir," she smiled.

"Evil's bane?" Faramir asked.

Eowyn nodded. "It was my father's sword."

Faramir smiled softly and drew his own sword forth. "Agarmaile," he whispered. "How unfitting for me."

Eowyn wrinkled her brow for a minute and then said slowly, "Blood lust?"

Faramir nodded. "My father named it when he presented it to me. He said,

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Ten amin erkevilte utinu. Ta anta lle astaid--lle maure ta. Inye esse ta Agarmaile!

(For my spineless son. May it give you courage--you need it. I name it Blood lust!)"

Eowyn translated this for a minute, and then cried, "Oh Faramir! That's terrible!"

Faramir chuckled softly. "It was not so bad, my love. Anyway, shall we get started?" He pulled off his cloak and began rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

Eowyn smiled and sliced the air with her sword neatly, then stood opposite him, digging her toes into the earth in anticipation. Her arms tingled; her fingers felt light and electric with the challenge presented to her.

Faramir fought off the feelings of fear. The last time he had fought a one-on-one duel with anyone was...long ago. It had been with his brother, Boromir, and Denethor had watched. But there was no reason he should be afraid now. He would not be humiliated if his wife beat him, as she was renowned throughout the kingdoms as a hero. And there would be no berating from his father. That was over now. But still, he was filled with dread.

As Eowyn took the first sweep, a bird broke into song with a shrill chirp. Faramir matched her swing and blocked, working on paying attention to the duel. Eowyn smiled as she fought, breathing deeply of the air and enjoying the singing weight of the deadly weapon in her hands. This was when everything was right. This was how it was supposed to be---two locked in combat, knowing every trick except for the deadly one that disarmed you and left you at the other's mercy.

Suddenly, Eowyn's vision blurred, and she felt everything go black. The trees disappeared, the birds ceased their chirping. It all happened so quickly, but before she knew it she was thrown headlong into another time and place.

_It was a red day. It had been long and hard from the beginning, with no hope in the first place. The smoke rising from the city did not make it any pleasanter, either. But the one thing that Eowyn knew was the most wrong was the feeling inside of her. She had not felt this way in years._

She wanted to die.

It was consuming her, burning her with a passion and making her forsake her duty. She wanted to kill them, kill them all! Those who murdered her kin, who had been killing her inside but never outside. Well, now was their chance. She was waiting for them, waiting to feel the blissful pain of a spear or arrow run her through. Waiting to feel the agony of a blade slicing deep into her, spilling her blood onto the ground.

Once she had been happy. It was long ago, but she could remember it. That had been before her parents died, before her cousin died, before she had died. Yes, she was dead, on the inside at least. And soon, oh so soon! she would be dead for real. There was no going back now.

Then it all happened. So quick it was, she hardly knew what was happening, but her uncle---the only one who truly cared for her---was thrown to the ground and crushed under his horse. Every particle of her being cried out NO! It was not supposed to be him who died! It was she who longed for an end.

And then she saw him.

The shape of the Ring-wraith, the Nazgul, the Witch-King---the one who had killed her Uncle! Revenge boiled up in her veins, her blood heated to an unbelievable level.

"Eowyn!"

_With a fierce shout she sprang forward, brandishing her sword and leaping between her uncle and the...thing._

"Eowyn!"

_It did not matter what happened to her now. She longer for death, and death she would find. And she would slay this monster._

"Eowyn, please!"

_She struck out with her sword, feeling it slice into something warm and alive. With a triumphant laugh, she raised the sword again to finish him off..._

"Eowyn, my love...come back..."

_The vision began to fade, and no longer was she seeing the terrifying shape of the Nazgul leering over her. She was staring into the face of..._

Faramir.

**A/N:**Ooh...cliffhanger! As soon as I get a sufficient amount of reviews, I'll post the next chapter. Ta! 


	4. Part Four

**A/N:** Wow, thank you so much! I never expected to get so many reviews;-) I'm trying to write fast for this one, so bear with me!

**Major Disclaimor:** Ok, I just thought it would be fair to let you all in on a little secret. Ok? Come closer now...ready? _I have no idea where this story is going!_ Ok, so maybe I have a liiiitle idea, but from the start I've just been writing whatever comes into my head and not really paying attention to the direction. Just thought I'd let you know so that you're not mad at me if this story is crap or anything.

Anyway, whatever I'm doing, you seem to like it, so I'll keep doing it.

**

Duel Me?: Part Four

**

_

By Dimfuin

_

With a cry, she dropped her sword and fell to her knees. Faramir knelt in the grass, gasping for breath. Blood poured from a wound on his arm, and though he wore black Eowyn could see the blood seeping into his shirt. He turned his face towards her and reached a hand up. "Eowyn," he choked out, "What happened?"

Eowyn was aware of Faramir's sword lying at least six feet away in the grass. Sweet Eru, she had disarmed him in her bloodlust and sliced his arm. "Faramir! I--I---"

"You were back, Wyn. Back on the Pelannor." He nodded weakly. "I have dreamed about it, many times."

Eowyn began to sob. "I hurt you!"

"You thought I was the Witch-King," Faramir went on, ignoring her. "You wanted to kill me."

"No!" Eowyn cried, smacking the side of her head. "What was I doing?"

Faramir grabbed her hand before it made contact again. "I have seen it happen before, Wyn. Many times. To soldiers who have had too much of battle." He shook his head. "I should not have brought you out here."

Eowyn began to tremble and she looked down to find her hands grasping his. "It felt so---so---"

"Real?" he asked. Eowyn looked up and was startled by the brightness of the eyes across from her.

"Yes," she breathed. "Yes. I wanted to die again. I felt just exactly the same way I had felt before!"

Faramir nodded and pulled her to himself with one arm. "I know. I cannot tell you the many times I have thought I heard the Nazgul's cry above me and felt the pain of an arrow entering me. It happens."

Eowyn pulled apart quickly. "Did I hurt you much, my love?"

"No," Faramir gasped. "It is just a little cut."

"All the same, I would like to take a look at it," she sniffed. She touched his arm tenderly and he jerked back.

"I'm-I'm fine Eowyn," he said warningly.

"I just want to help you. I have injured you by my idiocy and I want to see it," Eowyn snapped. A pounding headache was beginning, and it was as if all she could see was her husbands blood. It had to be stanched.

Faramir hesitated for a moment and then, with a sigh, surrendered his arm to Eowyn. She gently ripped the material off and looked at the wound.

It was deep and red, spewing forth blood. Eowyn almost gagged at the sight. She, who had tended more warrior's wounds than she could count, was revolted by the sight of this one. Perhaps it was because this was of her own making?

A sick feeling began to knot itself in the pit of her stomach and join the headache. Her hands began to shake as she ripped a length of skirt from the discarded dress and bound up her husband's wound. If only the bleeding would stop!

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I tried to tell you so many times...

Blinded by tears, she pressed harder, willing the fabric to make the blood slow. How could she have done this? How could she have hurt her Faramir?

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I tried to let you know

How my love consumes my heart...

She glanced up to look at his face. It was calm and still, his eyes tightly shut. _Why?_ She asked herself. _Why can't I do anything without harming another?_

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And how it'll always be there

But every time without fail...

"I am a shieldmaiden," she muttered to herself, quietly so as not to let him hear. "I cannot heal. I can only fight, always fight! Did you ever even stop to think about how he felt about this?"

__

I can't express my love

And when I try to tell you

We end up with hurt and blame.

Eowyn stopped and looked at her husband. "Faramir?" she asked gently.

"Yes?" he murmured without opening his eyes.

"Is that better, my love?" Eowyn asked timidly. The blood had finally seemed to be slowing. Faramir nodded.

"I'm sorry, Wyn," he whispered.

"Sorry?!? For what?"

"For bringing you out here. I am tired now. May I sleep?" he asked.

Eowyn nodded and gathered his head in her arms. She sat on the ground, holding him in her arms as he slept. _He must have lost a lot of blood_, she mused, _for him to be so weak._ Suddenly, she cursed herself out loud.

"Is this how it was supposed to end?" she yelled. "Is this the way it should be? Why can't we just have some peace??"

She lowered her head in defeat, asking herself again how this had happened. They had come out on a simple pleasure ride, to have a duel that was completely in jest. She had been keeping her strength and skill up with the sword...why when she was actually pitted against someone would she snap? And did she have to injure her husband? WHY?

"You tell me what to do," she asked of a robin who happened to be hopping by. "Is he strong enough to mount a horse?" The robin ignored her and spread its wings, flying up to the top of an oak tree. Eowyn bowed her head and stroked her husband's cheek. "I wish I knew what you were dreaming, mela. Is it sweeter in that world?"

__

Faramir was searching through the huge estate, walking--no running--through endless rooms and chambers. He was searching for something, or someone, and he couldn't find them for the life of him. He pressed on and on. His feet began to complain, and his head began to throb. He vaguely remembered having light when he started, but now there was nothing but blackness and shadows in the mansion. Nothing looked familiar, and yet at the same time...

Had he passed that bookcase before? And that lamp seemed so familiar!

But no, no this odd chair he KNEW he had not seen before. He looked closer at the engraving on it and gasped.

Lle kena, Faramir utinu Denethor, nan lle il hanya.

(You see, Faramir son of Denethor, but you never understand.)

As plain as day, he could read the words. He blinked in confusion, and when he looked again the words were gone. With a muffled sound he stumbled back and hit something hard.

It was a door.

He turned fearfully and faced the massive door. It was solid and black, all except for the gleaming handle that read in the common tongue: "Enter under your own free will and suffer the consequences, or wonder forever what would have happened if you had." What did an inscription like that mean? Faramir's curiosity got the better of him, and he opened the door very, very slowly.

It was complete blackness. He waved his hand in front of his face---touched it even, but it was no good. He could see nothing. He felt behind him for the door, but it was gone.

Vanished.

He was standing in an empty hall, with no idea where he was. Suddenly, he heard the scurrying of something. He could not see it, but he knew it was there. What was it?

"Who are you?" he called.

Who are you?

Who are you?

The echo came back to him tenfold, and he shivered. It was deathly cold in here...like a tomb. A tomb! Was that what this was?

Suddenly, he wanted to go back. He turned and ran, wildly searching for a door. Nothing came to him, though he ran as hard and as fast as ever he had before. There was nothing around, for miles maybe.

Or maybe there was nothing at all.

He stopped, breathless, and stood panting in the utter and complete blackness. How could he get out of here? How?

The sound came again. Closer than ever before, and he felt something brush past his face. He whipped around, searching futilely for it.

"Who's there?" he called again. No answer this time, not even an echo. The words were swallowed up in a silence like utter death.

Then, somewhere, a low rumbling chuckle started. It did not grow, but stayed the same quiet sound. Faramir's legs gave way and he fell upon the ground. With shaking hands, he reached up to cover his eyes. "What are you?" he whispered.

"**You know what I am**," a voice said, unlike anything Faramir could ever describe. **"And you know what I want**."

"What?!?" Faramir screamed. "What do you want???"

Something unbelievably cold touched his spine, sending uncontrollable shivers all over him.

****

"I want Eowyn."

**A/N:** Oh, I forgot...the little song/poem/lyrical thing in the middle is my own invention---awful, huh? So no, you may not take it (unless you ask me), and you won't find the lyrics on a CD (heaven forbid!)

Hmm...so let's see how many reviews I can get this time...lol;-) 


	5. Part Five

__

...**

From Last Chapter...

**

__

"**You know what I am**," a voice said, unlike anything Faramir could ever describe. **"And you know what I want**."

"What?!?" Faramir screamed. "What do you want???"

Something unbelievably cold touched his spine, sending uncontrollable shivers all over him.

****

"I want Eowyn."

NO!" Faramir shouted, jerking awake and sitting up in Èowyn's arms. He was still shivering from the coldness along his spine.

Èowyn woke at once from a doze herself. "Faramir?" she soothed, putting her arms back around her husband, "It was just a dream; there's no reason to be frightened."

For some reason the chills would not stop, and Faramir continued to shake. "No, no!" he moaned. "He was coming to take you away, Èowyn! He wants you, but I won't let him have you, no!" He tried to focus his eyes on Èowyn's face, but for some reason that too was giving him difficulty.

Èowyn was terrified. She'd never seen her husband like this before. He was trembling like a leaf, practically hysterical, and besides all that he felt hot to the touch. _Come on, think!_ she screamed inside, _What to do? What on earth should I _Do_???_

Deep, gasping breaths were beginning to come from her husband, so she stroked his head gently. "Faramir, there is no one coming. And look! It's not dark, the horses are still grazing quietly, and I'm here with you. We're only a few miles from our house, love!"

Faramir shook his head. "It is dark, Èowyn! And it's getting so cold out here!" he licked his lips and closed his eyes, trying to steady himself. "I should get you back, before we freeze."

Now Èowyn was really scared. She twisted her head to look at Faramir's wound and sucked in her breath. _Was he thrashing around while I slept?_ she wondered. _How long has it been bleeding again?_ Well, that would explain the fever.

"Faramir, do me a favor, sweetheart," Èowyn said softly, trying hard to hold onto sanity. "Lie down here, and wait just one moment. Alright? Just one."

Faramir tried to protest, but the buzzing in his ears grew too loud so he complied. As he lay down, the last thing that he remembered was saying, "Alright, but I'm watching for him."

Èowyn stood rapidly and crested the hilltop. She had allowed herself to fall asleep. How stupid could she be?!? It had been, oh, around noon when they had begun their duel. And from the looks of the sun now, it appeared to be around five o' clock. Yes, she had let him sleep for about an hour before she dozed off. But really! _As a shieldmaiden you should have more control over your body, Èowyn. I'm ashamed!_

Well, all was not lost. Faramir had lost a lot of blood, and he seemed to be suffering the affects of that, but he would be fine once they got home. And really, it was only a few miles. Her only real trial would be putting Faramir on a horse and getting him to stay there.

__

This is all because of you, a tiny voice said at the back of her mind.

Èowyn shook her head as if to rid herself of the thought. She knew that very well; she needn't think of that at the moment. It really wasn't her fault after all, was it?

__

How could you have done that to Faramir? Look at him!

Èowyn turned and looked. Then she turned back around. _I did my best to stop the bleeding,_ she countered. _I am no healer!_

If it wasn't for your stupidity he wouldn't be lying there. You wouldn't be wondering what to do as the sun sinks lower and lower with your new born babe at home in his crib.

Èowyn put her hands to either side of her head. "STOP IT!" She shrieked out loud.

STOP IT!

Stop it!

__

Stop it...

The hills echoed and she closed her eyes. This was no time to panic. She needed to think clearly and logically if she was going to get Faramir and herself home before dark. She knew how dangerous it was after dusk in the newly-settled-and-still-frightening Ithilien.

With an effort, she took a deep breath and walked back over the hill into the little glen where Faramir lay breathing hard. Upon inspection, Èowyn found that the new bandages she had applied seemed to be doing the trick and the bleeding had stopped. She could only hope that it would clot now, and she sent a silent prayer to Eru to watch over her husband. Then she walked a little way out and gave a sharp whistle.

Immediately her horse came, trotting through the trees with a welcoming whinny. Èowyn felt a bit of hope return as she saw the delicate creature jingle her bells and jump over some logs. Faramir's horse, Laurëa, followed directly behind Silivren. Èowyn held out her hands and Silivren nuzzled against them.

"Thank goodness for you, sweet," Èowyn murmured. She took hold of Laurëa's reigns too and stood on tip-toe to look into the brown horse's eyes. "I don't know if this will mean anything to you, Laurëa," she said firmly, "But they say the elvish language does strange and wondrous things with horses. So listen to me now: _Cheb Faramirnin man, Laurëa lisse. Úmet lanta."_ (Keep my Faramir safe, Laurëa sweet. Don't let him fall.)

With that, Èowyn led the horse over to her husband. The mare stopped next to him as Èowyn gently roused him. "My love," she whispered, "We must go now. We must get back to the house before it gets dark."

Faramir nodded weakly and, with Èowyn's help, got to his feet. He was still shaking, but it seemed more under control now. Èowyn was glad he had not had anymore strange dreams. As they approached Laurëa, Èowyn said firmly, " Laurëa, ndu." (Down) Immediately the horse obeyed, and Èowyn helped Faramir mount the horse. Then she stepped back and commanded, "Cel!" (Rise)

Laurëa rose with just a little difficulty, as Èowyn made sure Faramir didn't fall. Then Èowyn gathered up both swords and the discarded dress (which was half gone anyway) and mounted Silivren. "Are you alright, my love?" she asked gently, reaching over and touching Faramir's hand. He was slumped over the horse's neck, still shivering the tiniest bit, but he nodded.

"Fine," he whispered. Èowyn frowned as she saw sweat beading on his forehead, but didn't really give it much thought. It was just a small fever from losing too much blood. Her main concern right now was to get the two of them home. So with another prayer, she reached over and took Laurëa's reigns.

It was just a short ride to the top of the hill and down into the valley, but by that time Èowyn was fully aware that the sun was getting very low in the sky. But she had at least an hour yet, ample time to find their house, of course. She rode on, slowly, for a long time, letting her fears flee. Everything was going to be fine! They were well on their way home now, and before she knew it they would be coming in sight of the grounds. Of course, it would be a terrible shock to the servants to see their master in such a state, but there was no real harm in his fever. He would be fine in a few days...a week tops. She had seen this many times! No, there was nothing to fear.

That was when she realized she had no idea where she was.

Had she taken a wrong turn? She hadn't really been paying attention, actually. But she was getting to know Ithilien fairly well, and she could figure this out.

__

I've never seen those twin trees in my life, she thought. A sudden panic swept over her, but she fought for control. _Now is NOT the time. I must stay cool and collected!_

If only Faramir were conscious, he would know! He knew everything there was to know about Ithilien; he had not spent twenty years here for nothing. _I'll just retrace my steps,_ Èowyn decided.

But which way? East, she should go east. The sun was setting that way, so that was the way she would go. Èowyn gulped a few times and then nudged Silivren onward.

Did that waterfall look familiar? Why did that stump with the wild lilies growing on it not ring a bell? And that ditch in the rode...anything could be hiding in it!

"Èowyn!" she said out loud, "Stop being an idiot. Scaring yourself will do no good AT ALL."

Suddenly, a flock of birds broke out of a tree and flew directly overhead. Èowyn screamed, then covered her mouth. Silivren shied to one side and snorted uncomfortably.

Èowyn was breathing deeply now, but she patted her horse consolingly. "Sorry, precious. I was just a little scared, that's all. Nothing to be frightened of!" She glanced back at Faramir and his mount. He was pale, but seemed to be holding up well. There was a streak of blood down one white cheek, and she wondered idly how that had got there.

"Alright Èowyn," she began talking again, out loud for comfort. "This is simple. You know the house is to the East of you, and you know you took the wrong turn." Her voice gained in shrillness, but she pushed it down again. "So all you have to do is go East, and you're bound to find it eventually. What is most important is NOT TO PANIC."

With a gulp, she set out again. She would not think about how dark it had gotten. She would not think about how lost she was. She would not think about what she would do if...

No. The only thought that she let cross her brain was : _East, east, east._

East.

East.

East.

It was only when the sun sank and she found herself in a thicket of wild apple trees that she stopped and ceased thinking about the East.

Because she was lost, and there was no hope of getting back tonight.

None.

__

Stop being morbid, she told herself as she dismounted. _You still have the horses, and you can make shelter for yourself and Faramir until the morning. His wound has stopped bleeding, hasn't it now?_

__

I am out in the middle of Ithilien, lost, with a wounded man who is disoriented and weak from blood loss, and two horses.

And then, just as Èowyn was taking the cloaks from the horses to make a bed for her husband and herself, it happened.

It began to rain.

_

_

Laurëa-Golden

Silivren-Glittering white

**A/N:** NOW REVIEW! (Only if you want more, of course;-) 


	6. Part Six

**A/N:** Ok, I don't usually update this fast, but I had it written so there wasn't really any reason to wait. Maybe it's also because I'm actually getting excited about this now;-) So here's the next chapter (which is indeed longer than the others!)

**Btw...** Thanks for pointing that out, Lady of the Dog Star. I must admit, I thought of the horses myself, but I decided (and maybe it was a wrong descision) that I could just ignore that, as it would ruin the lovely plot I'd worked out. But ah well, what's done is done!

And now, without further ado...

**

Duel Me?: Part Six

**

_

By Dimfuin

_

It was all Èowyn could do not to break down in sobs right then and there, but she forced herself to remain level headed. She pulled both horses further into the bracken, stumbling a little over the rough ground, and tied them to a strong tree.

"You're going to have to help me, precious," she whispered to Laurëa, who snorted and began to ease herself to the ground. As she did so, Faramir began to slide off and Èowyn caught him with an "oof" of discomfort. The sick man was wavering between consciousness and unconsciousness, but he managed to stand with the help of Èowyn and walk to the spot under the trees where she had spread their cloaks.

"Now lie here," Èowyn murmured as Faramir collapsed onto the ground. "I'll just be a minute."

" Èowyn!" Faramir caught her arm as she turned back to the horses. Immediately Èowyn knelt beside him.

"What is it?" she asked.

Faramir focused on her face with an effort. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I'm such a burden."

Èowyn shook her head. "You forget, my love, that 'twas I who injured you! You just lie still, and everything will be alright."

Faramir was pacified, but Èowyn found that for some reason, she did not believe her own words. The rain was getting harder, and already she was soaked through. She stopped a minute and thought about a fire. _There's hardly a chance of getting one started in this tempest,_ she thought sadly, _And even if by some miracle I did...it would only be a danger._ So she merely took the saddles off of the horses and patted them one last time before slipping under the cloaks next to her husband.

Apparently they weren't doing much, as he was drenched too. Èowyn put her arms around him and drew him close to her in an attempt to keep him warm.

It did no good.

All night the wind howled about them, the rain blew against them, and Faramir shivered uncontrollably. Èowyn herself was a bit cold, but she would not---_could not_---allow herself to give into her own feelings. She pulled the cloak over their heads, keeping their faces dry at the least. She whispered sweet words in his ear when the fever got terrible, sang softly when he trembled too badly, and prayed when the storm got so loud she couldn't even hear herself think. And eventually, close to two o' clock in the morning, as the rain began to let up and the dew settle, Èowyn fell asleep listening to her husband's rough breathing.

The first thing Èowyn knew when she awoke was that she was soaking wet and very uncomfortable. The second thing she knew was that she was NOT in Emyn Arnen, she was lying on the ground in a glade. But the third thing she knew was by far the worst. This was that her husband was gasping violently for breath.

In a flash, Èowyn was sitting up and flinging the drenched cloak off of the two of them. One look at Faramir was enough to send ripples of fear down her spine and she immediately put an arm around his shoulders and half helped, half forced him to sit up.

His lips were blue, his face was sheet white, and his eyes were bloodshot and huge. Sweat sparkled on his brow in the early morning light, and he clutched feebly at her hands, trying to bring air into his lungs. Èowyn began rubbing his back, massaging his throat and anything else that she could think of to help him draw air into his body.

Eventually, he quieted a bit. Sitting seemed to help, and his gasps gave way to wheezing. Then the shivers took over again. Èowyn couldn't stop the tears now, and she pulled Faramir to her breast and cradled him against her, trying with all her might to transfer some of the heat from her body to his. She rocked slowly and began to weep.

"Eru!" she meant to shout, but it only came out in a defeated low voice. "Why are you doing this? What did we do?? What did _he_ do? If either of us should be suffering so much, _why isn't it me???_" Then she bowed her head and let the sobs wrack her body.

It may have been an hour, but it was probably closer to thirty minutes that Èowyn sat with her husband cradled in her arms. What thoughts ran through her over-taxed brain are only to be imagined, but at the end of that time Èowyn slowly looked up.

Silivren was watching her intently, pity (if pity can be found in a horses gaze) shining forth. Èowyn sniffed and wrapped her arms tighter around her husband's limp form.

"Well, Silivren, what do you think?" she asked. Something inside of Èowyn would not give up. Here she was, in the middle of the wilderness with a terribly sick man. By rights she should be despairing. But that was not part of Èowyn's nature. All of her upbringing she had been taught to fight, and fighting was what she was best at. "When the going gets tough..." Èowyn trailed off and bowed her head.

_The tough get going._

But what could she do? It was just a saying, a stupid verse someone had come up with to make them feel better. Nothing could help her now. There was no way Faramir was getting on top of a horse again, and there was no one around for miles.

She was stuck, and stuck for good.

"What was it Eomer taught me?" she mused, kissing the top of Faramir's head. "There was a song, long ago. He taught it to me when our parents died. How did it go..."

__

When the cold of winter comes

Starless night will cover day

In the veiling of the sun

We will walk in bitter rain

But in dreams

I still hear your name

And in dreams

We will meet again

When the seas and mountains fall

And we come, to end of days

In the dark I hear a call

Calling me there

I will go there

And back again

"Back again," Èowyn repeated, closing her eyes. _Only I can't go back. If I could, oh, I would!!_

"Excuse me?"

Èowyn jerked so much at the sudden voice that Faramir gave a low moan. Èowyn's eyes flashed open and she stared straight at...a little girl.

She was an attractive thing, dressed all in white with dark hair and a wide smile. She smiled shyly at Èowyn, gripping a basket full of berries in both hands. Èowyn began to feel a bit dizzy, but she would not allow herself to be weak now.

"Who...who are you?" she asked faintly.

"My name is Nympha," the girl said in a high voice, reminiscent of something Èowyn could not place.

"You...where did you come from?" Èowyn questioned, gaining some courage and wits again. "Why are you out here?"

Nympha cocked her head. "I live down the hill. Mum said berries were sweetest when picked early in the morning, and does he always look like that? He's shaking."

Èowyn could have wept for joy, but she stilled the bubbles inside with a colossal effort. _Calm_, she thought resolutely, _Calm. I must stay calm._

"No," she said gently, "You see Nympha, he is very sick. We've been out here all night. He was wounded," she swallowed as she said the word, "yesterday, and he lost a lot of blood. Then when we stayed out all night---"

"In the storm?!" Nympha cut in, dropping her basket and coming closer. "I'm so sorry! If my adar had known, he and Halla---"

"Who's Halla?" Èowyn wanted to know.

"My older brother. He's almost twenty-two now." Nympha reached out a gentle hand and touched Faramir's brow. "He's so nice looking," she murmured.

Èowyn took a deep breath. "Nympha," she began, "do you think you could help us?"

The little girl nodded solemnly.

"My husband needs help, fast, if he is going to live. Can we come to your house?" Èowyn asked.

"Of course! I'll run and get Adar and Halla now, and they can carry him. And," she paused and looked at the horses. "We'll take care of them too."

Èowyn breathed a long sigh of relief. "Thank you. And please hurry!"

Nympha ran down the hill and out of sight, her small legs going as fast as possible. Èowyn bent her mouth to Faramir's ear.

"Don't worry, my love. You'll be cared for now, never fear." She herself was beginning to feel light headed, but once again, she pushed her emotions and feeling away for later. The task at hand was to get Faramir safely to a place where they would care for him.

It was only (at the most) five minutes before Nympha returned with two men that Èowyn could only assume were her father and brother. As they approached, the younger of the two breathed, "Great edhel, she spoke the truth!"

The older one dropped to one knee beside Èowyn and said gently, "My name is Nereus, and we're going to help you. May we carry him?"

Èowyn smiled royally and nodded. Something told her they hadn't the slightest idea who she or Faramir was (their clothes were long past giving any clue) and that was just the way she wanted it to stay. "Please," she said, "Be gentle with him."

"Of course," Halla replied. Slowly and cautiously, he took Faramir's shoulders and head while Nereus lifted his legs. They rose in one motion, supporting him easily. Nereus looked back at her as they stood.

"We'll come back for you, if you like miss," he said. Èowyn stood (a little precariously) and shook her head.

"There is no need, I am perfectly fine. I'll bring the horses."

They set out, and Èowyn had never felt as if anything had ever taken longer. Her husband was safe in the men's arms and the horses were safe with her and Nympha, but every step seemed agony to her weary mind and heart. It seemed like an eternity (but was really only a few minutes) until they came in sight of a well built little cottage surrounded by trees. Èowyn at once noticed how protected and safe it looked. Anything built in Ithilien would have to be. All was not safe here, not by far.

Nereus and Halla bore Faramir into the yard and through the door, and Nympha led Èowyn to the stable on the side of the house, where the little girl took Silivren's reigns.

"I'll take care of her, don't worry," the child smiled. "Mum will want to speak with you."

To tell the truth, Èowyn did not relish the idea of grooming and feeding her horses at the moment, so she was only too glad to let the little girl take them. She made her way out of the stable again and up the small path to the house.

As soon as she stepped through the door, Èowyn felt relief wash over her. It was surprisingly large for a cottage, with at least two rooms on the ground level and a loft up above. She paused for an instant and looked around, and the next second a middle aged but still good looking woman swept in. She had dark hair like her daughter and happy brown eyes.

"Oh! You must be the wife, bless your heart," she said. Èowyn had not expected such a refined voice to come from the woman, but her voice reminded her somewhat of bells. "I'm sure you've had a terrible time of it. To think of staying out all night in the storm!" In an instant she had her arms around Èowyn and was hugging her. "But don't worry dear. He's going to be just fine. A little rest and care, and he'll be well again."

Èowyn nodded weakly. The suddenness of being unburdened was too much for her, and she could feel all of the stress and fear of the previous day and night slipping onto her shoulders. The room began to reel, and she heard herself vaguely say, "I'm sorry."

Then it all went black.

**A/N:** NOW REVIEW!! 


	7. Part Seven

**A/N:** Ok, first I'd like to say that I'm not exactly sure what I think concerning Denethor and Faramir. I believe he was emotionally abusive (but not an evil person) and I'm not sure I think he was physically abusive. But my friends Steelsheen and Elvellon are writing a story about Faramir and Eowyn and I'm kinda following it. So anyway...

**Duel Me?: Part Seven**

_By Dimfuin_

Èowyn awoke to a feeling of warmth and comfort. She was lying on something extremely soft and fluffy, and something even softer was spread over her. She kept her eyes shut, relishing the coziness of it. _Must I awake?_ she asked herself languidly.

Then she remembered.

Èowyn sat straight up in bed, her eyes snapping open and searching frantically for her husband. Where was he? How long had she been asleep?

"You don't have to worry," a deep voice said with a chuckle in it. "Your husband is doing well."

Èowyn glanced to her left and saw the young man named Halla sitting on a stool whittling. He smiled at her and laid down his knife. "You've been asleep for almost twenty-four hours, in case you wanted to know, and it's now around eight o' clock in the morning."

Èowyn felt herself beginning to blush. She looked down and realized that she wasn't wearing her own clothes anymore, but a soft nightdress made of cotton. No doubt her own clothes had gone to the fire long since. She put a hand to her forehead and asked, "What happened?"

"I'll tell you what happened," came a bell-like voice from the doorway, and the next moment the woman came sweeping in. "You over-exerted yourself trying to get your husband to safety, and when you realized you didn't have that responsibility anymore you passed out. And I'm right glad you did, because I'm not sure you would have agreed to leave his side otherwise." She leaned over and hugged Èowyn. "My name is Loomi."

Èowyn thought for a moment. "Cloud? What a lovely name!"

Loomi nodded. "Aye, it means cloud alright. But please, tell me your names!"

Èowyn bit her lip. Should she take a chance that they would know who they were? She honestly didn't want them to feel obliged to take them in just because they were the Prince and Princess of Ithilien. "My name is Èowyn," she finally said, "And my husband's name is Faramir."

Loomi smiled. "What lovely names! Almost seem like they're from a book, don't they Halla?"

Halla was squinting at Èowyn, but he nodded none-the-less. "Yes, right nice names."

Èowyn stuck her feet out of the bed. "Please, may I have my clothes back?"

Loomi laughed, and the bells rang all the sweeter. "Child, I burned those this morning. But I think I can find you something better to wear!" She turned to Halla. "Aut tulta i wen vaima, Halla," (Go find the maiden a gown, Halla) she spoke swiftly. "Asc!" (Hurry!)

Halla jumped up and hurried away. Loomi turned and sat on the bed. She studied Èowyn for a time (which was none too comfortable) and finally said, "May I ask you a few personal questions?"

Èowyn blinked and nodded slowly. "If I may have the liberty of answering them only if I so chose."

Loomi grinned and agreed. Then she reached over and took Èowyn's hand. "First," she started, "They're more about your husband, not you."

Èowyn immediately clammed up. She knew now where this was going. Unfortunately she had never had this happen before, and she wasn't quite sure how much to say. _Help me to know, Eru_, she prayed swiftly.

"Yesterday we did all we could for him," Loomi went on, "and we had to bring his fever down. So..." she looked Èowyn straight in the eye. "What I'm trying to ask, Èowyn, is why your husband bears the markings of the whip all over his back and shoulders."

Èowyn sighed and bowed her head. It was out now, and there was no going back. But Loomi wasn't done.

"Also," she said, "he kept crying out in his delirium. It near broke my heart to hear him speak too. He kept saying things about fire and mercy. And one word he kept repeating over and over. _Adar_. I know elvish, you must know that Èowyn, so I understand that word. Please...I don't mean to pry, but---"

"Well you're certainly doing a good job of it!" Èowyn snapped. Then she sighed again. "Faramir was abused as a child, Loomi. He was beaten, with a whip, yes, and was emotionally tortured from the age of five onward. Eventually things got so bad that...right before I met him, which was in Gondor in the Houses of Healing, his adar tried to burn him. He had been wounded in the great battle and was unconscious at the time. I don't even know why I'm telling you all this."

Loomi stared at her wide eyed. "I had no idea," she whispered. "_Gorga hin_," (Poor child)

Èowyn nodded. "Anything else?"

Loomi leaned back and looked out the window. "I don't suppose you want to tell me why you were out in the tempest last night, and why he's wounded? Trust me," she hastened on, "You needn't tell me if you don't wish to. I merely thought you might want me to know, seeing as you're going to be staying for a while."

Èowyn hesitated. "Might we...might we leave that for later?" she asked finally. Loomi nodded and stood up.

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry for prying, but it's not every day that---"

"I'm sure," Èowyn admitted. "I want to thank you so much for helping us. If we hadn't been found by Nympha I really do not like to think about what might have happened to my husband."

At that moment, Halla opened the door and came in. In his hands he held a deep burgundy colored dress and a pair of leather shoes, which he set on the bed. "There you go, miss," he smiled.

Loomi touched the collar and looked up at Èowyn. "It's just your color, my dear. And please, feel free to use any of the brushes and combs you find around here."

"Atara, i laiwa atani maure le," (Mother, the ill man needs you) Halla said quietly.

"Why?" Èowyn immediately asked. She stood and began pushing toward the door.

"It's---it's nothing," Halla said, "but he needs more herbs and my mother is the only one who knows which."

"Please, dress yourself and make yourself pretty again," Loomi smiled. "I'll only be a minute." Then she and Halla left.

Èowyn picked up the dress and looked at it. It really wasn't half bad. It was burgundy, with a white strip of cloth at the top which folded down into a collar. Èowyn slipped it over her head and smiled. It fit like a glove and flattered her figure. Then she slipped the shoes on and sighed. They too fit well and where of comfortable leather which had been broken in.

Èowyn turned to the wall where there was a small dressing table and picked up a brush. As she brushed her long hair out, she thought, _Thank Eru for these people! Faramir will be well soon and then we'll be on our way home. _It suddenly struck her how much she missed her child, and she wondered how the servants and courtiers at home would deal with having the Prince and Princess missing. Not well.

Suddenly, just as Èowyn had finished tying her hair back with a leather cord she heard raised voices from outside. One was definitely Loomi's---another one of the males in the family. But the third...it was shrill and broken, like the voice of a sick man.

Èowyn dashed to the door, knocking a comb and three pieces of jewelry off of the table in her haste. She flung it open and ran into the big room outside. Glancing around, she noticed a door at the far end of the room. _That must be where they are, _she thought. Then she hurried over to it and opened the door.

She froze.

Loomi and Halla were in the small room, trying desperately to still Faramir's thrashing. Halla had his hands on Faramir, trying to keep him from harming himself, and Loomi was feverishly dabbing the sick man with a towel. Èowyn's heart gave a queer twist and she felt her hands grow cold. Faramir looked even worse than when they were in the woods. His eyes---his beautiful sea-green eyes---were standing out in his face dramatically, and his lips were dry and cracked. Involuntarily, Èowyn gave a small cry.

At once Halla and Loomi looked up, panic lighting up their features. Loomi jumped up and began pulling Èowyn away.

"There's naught that you can do here, Èowyn!" she panted. "Come away, please! You'll only---"

"Leave me be!" Èowyn shrieked. She jerked her arm roughly away from Loomi and walked determinedly toward the bed. She took a deep breath and desperately tried to organize her jumbled thoughts before reaching out.

"Ada! Ada, PLEASE! Boromir, Amme, ÈOWYN!" Faramir called out hoarsely. He reached a hand out as if pleading.

Èowyn struggled to keep from sobbing as she gently put her hand on Faramir's face. "Melanin," (My love) she whispered, putting her face next to his own hot one. "Inye sinome, inye sinome." (I am here, I am here.)

Almost at once, Faramir calmed, bringing his shaking hand down to where Èowyn could clasp it in her own. "Le tulka," (You are strong) she went on. "Le palpa sina rauko laiwa." (You will defeat this awful sickness.) She reached for the wet towel and began dabbing it on his face and chest.

Loomi stood in the doorway, leaning on it for support. She had never seen anything like that before, and she found herself thinking that if a man could be calmed by the simple touch and voice of his wife, he must surely be in love with her beyond the comprehension of most mortals. She watched as Èowyn began to sing gently,

_

Lay down

_

Your sweet and weary head

Night is falling

You have come to journey's end

Sleep now

Dream---of the ones who came before

They are calling

From across a distant shore

Why do you weep?

What are these tears upon your face?

Soon you will see

All of your fears will pass away

Safe in my arms

You're only sleeping

What can you see

On the horizon?

Why do the white gulls call?

Across the sea

A pale moon rises

The ships have come

To carry you home

And all will turn to silver glass

A light on the water

All souls pass...

Suddenly, Èowyn stopped singing and gasped. _I am singing about death!_ she thought. "No!" she said out loud, then looked at Halla and Loomi. "He isn't going to die. I won't let him."

Halla thought he had never seen anything so beautiful before. The pale and fevered man, the beautiful and determined wife. And for a minute he believed that Faramir could never die, not with Èowyn there to save him. But then he shook his head and drew and hand through his hair.

"The fever must come down," he said wearily. "We've tried everything, but it's eating his resistance away. By this time tomorrow he'll have no strength left in his body."

Èowyn raised her head. "Everything?" she asked. Then she shook her head and smiled at him. "No, not yet." She closed her beautiful blue eyes and bowed her golden head over her husband's hand. In a moment her voice filled the room.

"Eru," she prayed, "You made everything there is in this world, and everything must eventually die and return to their maker. But Eru, I beg you not to take my husband away from me. Not yet! We have only just found each other, such a short time ago. I cannot understand why you would take him away from this world. After all of the trials he has endured, all of the danger he has triumphed over, would you take him now? It was..." she swallowed and continued, "a mistake, Eru. It was an accident. How can it have resulted in _this_? Forgive me for my foolishness, Eru. But please, _don't take my husband from me!_ Maybe...maybe I'm being selfish. I know Faramir will be with you if he dies, and never know suffering again. But...you created him, and you created me. You created the love which binds us together now. I know you have the power to heal him. Please, _please_ save him." Her voice quivered, and then she whispered, "Amen."

The room was deadly silent as Èowyn raised her head and looked around. Halla and Loomi were staring at her.

"Do you believe he will save him: Eru?" Loomi finally asked.

Èowyn shook her head. "I don't know. But I trust that whatever happens will be for His plan, and His plan is the best." She stood, leaning a little on the bed. "He is resting rather well at the moment. Please, do you think I could have a little food?" It had just hit Èowyn that she had not eaten since the afternoon of two days ago, and her stomach felt as if someone had punched it, hard.

Loomi sprang up. "Of course! Oh, how stupid of me! You must be absolutely _famished!_" With that, she led Èowyn out to the big room to give her food.

As Èowyn left the room, she glanced over her shoulder at the form of her husband...her Faramir lying on the bed with his eyes shut. She didn't know if he was going to live or not, but she could hope. Oh, and she would _hope_.


	8. Part Eight

**A/N:** Alright, this is my favorite chapter (so far) I'm not sure why, but it's so...something. Pure? Hmm... Or maybe it's because there's a happy scene with Far's family? Anyway, sorry if the italics bother you or make it hard to read, but it's nessesary for this chapter.

**Side note that has nothing to do with this story...** Sort of in response to Arahiril (sort of) I'm glad you liked my prayer. I myself believe very strongly that they worshiped Eru, their God. BUT I've always wondered this...how did they get married? Was their some kind of equivalent to clergy in Middle Earth? Did they have a wedding cerimony, or what? If anyone can help me here, PLEASE DO! You will be clearing up something that has caused me severe sleep loss (Jk;-)

Thank you to all of my wonderful reviewers...you flatter me beyond the expression of words;-)

**Duel Me?: Part Eight**

_by Dimfuin_

__

The sunlight hit the water with a shimmer, sending glimmers of light up toward the beach. To Faramir, who was watching it with a keen eye, it looked like all of his dreams and happy times caught up and turned into sparkling golden light and cast on the water.

So he was here, again. In all of his favorite dreams he was here, by the sea. He had been so very young when his mother died, but he could still remember her voice telling him of the sea and the beautiful waves. She would touch his face with a feather light finger and whisper, "You have eyes the same color as the sea, my precious." Sometimes, when no one at all was around, Faramir would creep over to the mirror and gaze at his eyes. It wasn't for vain purposes, no. But after his mother died he wanted so much to know what the sea was like, that he thought maybe he could tell by looking at his own eyes. He would lose himself in the color and try his best as a city boy to picture the sea and the endless crashing and tumult.

Faramir looked up as a white gull flew overhead, greeting him with a cheerful caw and dipping into the waves to settle on top. It was a comforting sight, he realized, being able to watch the bird doing what it had done for generations and generations without end.

He had been ten when he had had his first sight of the sea. It was a long, long trip, but he hadn't minded. The entire time he would not stop pestering Boromir (who had visited the sea when he was seven) about what it looked like.

Was it huge?

Yes.

Bigger than the Anduin?

In a different way, of course!

Would he be able to go into it?

Most assuredly...and the cousins would teach them how to ride the waves.

What did that feel like? What did the sea sound like? Would they be able to see it out of their bedroom window and listen to it as they slept?

For goodness sake, stop pestering me! I DON'T KNOW!

The first thing he remembered about the ocean was that it had been frightening. After all of the time he had spent dreaming about it, and yet upon first sight he had been terrified. The waves were too big, the noise too loud. He never wanted to go out into it...suppose he was to be swept out to sea and never be able to get back home? He wasn't ready to die! He didn't want to join Amme yet! But gradually he learned to like it, and by the time they were to go back to Minis Tirith Faramir was in tears to think he would be leaving it.

As Faramir grew, his love of the sea only increased. It was a sanctuary to him...a safe haven. It was Amme's sea, and Amme's home. Amme was part of the only happy times Faramir could remember in his young life, so it was only natural for him to love with unconditional love the place where Amme was from.

Now Faramir turned away and began walking up the steep hill toward the big house up top. He was going to let himself be washed free of memories today. Completely and absolutely...

Drat.

It looked as if that wasn't going to happen after all. Out of the house ran Boromir, a young seven year old, and Denethor followed closely behind. He held Finduilas's arm, who was holding the baby Faramir (who was three) by one hand. They were all smiling...that much any fool could see.

As Boromir ran splashing into the ocean, Faramir laughed and clapped his hands, trying to break away from his mother and run down to the water too. No such luck...as he pulled more and more Denethor finally scooped him up and, with a smile and wink at his wife, he ran with the child down to the beach.

"Come, Boromir," Denethor smiled, "Let's show your brother how to play in the water."

Immediately Boromir came over and took Faramir's small hands. "Dip them in the water, Far," he said, "like this!" And he splashed his father with an impish grin. Denethor spluttered good-naturedly, wiping his face with his free hand, just in time to catch another splash, this one from his younger son.

"Boromir, what are you teaching him?" he cried, trying his best to act angry. A delicate laugh came from the sand, where Finduilas sat under the shade of a canopy. "You look so funny, Den darling," she smiled. "You're completely soaked!"

Denethor blew a kiss from the water. "And you look absolutely stunning, my flower."

Faramir felt a tear trickle down his face, and he let it be blown off by the wind. They had never been so happy anywhere else. Finduilas really wasn't content when she wasn't by the sea, and when Finduilas was happy, Denethor was happy. If there was one thing that he could look up to his father for, it was his love for his mother. He practically worshiped her.

The happy scene was beginning to fade, and Faramir turned toward the house again. Someone else was coming out of it...and the sky began to grow dark. All of his dreams turned dark, after a time. He was just like that.

The man was dressed all in black, with a black cape and hood to go along with it. This isn't one of my memories, Faramir thought frantically, I've never seen that figure before in my life! But it was coming closer, that he knew. He began to retreat toward the cliffs, stumbling over his own feet to get away. Something told him to run, yet the thought of turning his back to this creature was a loathful thought.

Suddenly, Faramir's back struck against a stone wall, and Faramir realized he'd backed right into the side of one of the tombs that lay behind the hill at the back of the house. The stone was cold under his fingertips, and he prayed with all his might that he would be delivered. He chanced a look up at the sky, then back to the advancing figure. Was it just his imagination, or had the thing gotten ten yards closer in that space of time? Something tickled his hand, and he spared a glance down at it, then back at the figure. Now it seemed as if it was twenty yards closer. Then something sharp touched his head and his eyes flickered for a split second...he was positive that whatever it was was now thirty yards closer and almost upon him. He held up his hands to shield himself.

"What are you?" he cried.

"**You know what I am," **the voice said, and he remembered that voice now. **"And you know what I want."**

"NO!" screamed Faramir. "You'll never get Èowyn! Not in a million years!"

****

"Fool!" the thing cried, and something hard slammed against Faramir's head, sending him tumbling to his knees. **"I don't want the girl! You should know that much. What I want is..." **Faramir felt something warm and sticky in his face, and he looked up into a completely black mask. **"...your joy. I want your happiness...I want your memories, all of the good ones. I want you to remember only the pain, only the torture. I want the blinding grief to consume you; I want the agony to take over your mind until there's nothing left but a shriveled nothing. And then you can die."**

Immediately Faramir saw Denethor raising the whip and bringing it down onto his flesh. Eru, it hurt so! He hadn't been beaten since he was fifteen, and he'd forgotten the agony it could produce.

He saw Boromir in the boat again, slipping down the Anduin silently, painlessly. He felt his heart tear as it had that day, never to be completely mended.

He watched as his mother sobbed in private, longing for the sea and her old life, away from the city of stone. He felt the quick, silent pain pierce his heart like a needle.

He saw Èowyn as she despaired of life, as the cold, hard glint in her eyes grew and slew without thinking. He saw her scorn mankind and their pity until she cast her body over the side of the walls. She plummeted, letting her hair whip about her, her eyes smiling in final release.

He felt the crawling, burning heat of a fire on him and looked up to see his father's face through the pain. He was asking for forgiveness. Could he give it? But now the flames were too hot. Now the whip was tearing into his heart. Now the sight of his brother drew him to his knees. Now his mother brought him on his face in agony. Now the look in Èowyn's eyes bit into his mind and soul until he couldn't think. He couldn't take it any more! The pain, the pain! Nothing but pain!

"Ada! Ada, PLEASE! Boromir, Amme, ÈOWYN!" he screamed with one last effort. It was too much! He couldn't go on...he was dying!

Then there was a gentle touch on his face, and the ghosts began to melt away. Slowly, at first, but they gathered speed. He turned his head through the blood and saw a vision...a beautiful woman next to him, touching him and smiling.

It was Èowyn.

He brought his hand down to her and she clasped it. The blood began to melt away too, and the heat fled somewhat. She opened her beautiful mouth and silver words floated through the air. Lovely, soothing words...

Lay down

Your sweet and weary head

Night is falling

You have come to journey's end

Sleep now

Dream---of the ones who came before

They are calling

From across a distant shore

Why do you weep?

What are these tears upon your face?

Soon you will see

All of your fears will pass away

Safe in my arms

You're only sleeping

What can you see

On the horizon?

Why do the white gulls call?

Across the sea

A pale moon rises

The ships have come

To carry you home

And all will turn to silver glass

A light on the water

All souls pass...

Faramir closed his eyes and felt himself drift away on a cloud until all the pain and agony was gone. So soft, so warm...

His feet hit the ground and he looked down. White sand. He was standing on a white shore, and around him white gulls flew in slow, soft rhythm. He realized he was barefoot, and the feeling of the sand in between his toes was one of the best feelings he had ever had, he believed. A path stretched out in front of him, and he began strolling along it, whistling merrily. He didn't know exactly where he was going, but he knew it was going to be good. He looked out over the still, glassy water and saw a light shimmering over the top. How beautiful.

"Faramir."

Faramir tilted his head back and gazed up at the star-strewn heavens. There was nothing ever like them, he decided. And especially nothing like the moon. When he had begun learning elvish, his teacher had asked him what the very first word in elvish he wanted to learn was. Faramir had thought for a long moment, and then looked up with big eyes. "Moon," he had replied. The teacher had smiled, and written in big letters on the copy book, "I-T-H-I-L." Faramir had thought it was the prettiest word ever.

"Faramir."

Anar was another pretty word, and the two seemed to go together. Sun and Moon. The sun wasn't out right now, but Faramir didn't care. He liked the moon better, because when the moon was out nobody cared where he was or what he was thinking. It was a feeling he'd had ever since he was a child.

"FARAMIR!"

Faramir stopped walking and looked around. Someone was calling his name, and this time it didn't sound threatening in the least. Who could be looking for him here? He didn't even know where here was!

"Yes?" he called hesitantly. "Who's there?"

"Come back."

"What?" he asked, turning around and searching for the voice. "Where?"

"Come over to the hilltop. At once."

The voice was so persuasive, and Faramir couldn't see how it would hurt, so he walked over and stopped at the top. "I'm here," he called. "Now what?"

"Jump off of the cliff," the voice said. "You must return to the land of the living."

Faramir took a step back and peered over the side. Thick fog swirled at the bottom of the crevice, and up from the depths he heard a cry for mercy. A cry of pain.

It was his own voice.

Faramir took another step back. "But there's pain and agony down there," he said, a tremor running through his voice. "There are memories, decisions, and abuse. I can't." He stepped back again.

"You must. But that is not all there is, Faramir. What else is there?"

Faramir paused and thought. "There is Èowyn," he whispered. "She would never make it if I died. And...there's my son, Elboron. Someone must be there to teach him and love him. There is Gondor, and all of the work that must be done to rebuild and replenish. And...there's Imrahil and Lothiriel and the rest of my family in Dol Amroth."

"You see? There is good. Your time has not yet come, Faramir. Now jump."

Faramir gritted his teeth. He must be prepared for any pain his body was going through at the moment. He stepped to the edge and began to jump..."Wait!" he said suddenly, and turned. "Who are you?"

The voice laughed softly, a pleasing sound. "I am merely one of the Valar, small one. Now go."

Faramir touched his forehead and then his heart in a show of respect and then stepped to the edge and jumped. Down, down, down he fell, through mist and shadow, cloud and shade, to the edge of night. Finally, he felt himself land and he lay for a minute, gasping for breath. He was burning and his arm throbbed, but he was completely ready for it. He opened his eyes, and looked straight up at Èowyn's face.

"Im na bar, Èowyn," (I am home, Èowyn) he smiled. "Im na bar."


	9. Part Nine

**A/N:**Do you know what the most annoying thing on earth is? The fact that this thing won't allow me to put lines in! HOW THE HECK DO I PUT A LINE IN HERE???? If any of you can tell me, please do before I tear my hair out!

Thank you so much for all of your reviews and for all of the responses to my wedding question. That was totally sweet and I love you all;-)

You know what's funny? This story was originally going to be a two or three chapter story, and now it's...large;-) Anyway, Lady of the Dog Star, thank you for pointing that out. What I MEAN'T was the first time he could remember, but I must have left that out. **Hits self on the side of the head** I'll try to be more careful;-)

Ok, now we're gonna go back in time just a tad. Have fun!

**

Duel Me: Part Nine

**

_By Dimfuin_

  
  
How long Èowyn had been sitting by the bed, she wasn't sure. She knew that it was late at night, and she had been sitting there since she had taken a short nap around noon. But it didn't really matter; she wasn't tired.

Faramir was doing better...or so it might seem. He wasn't thrashing or calling out anymore, but he lay still and calm. His face was peaceful, but his breathing... Èowyn couldn't help thinking it might be too shallow. His chest barely rose at all when he took a breath.

The room started to blur, and she realized just before she hit the bed that she was falling asleep. With a jerk, she righted herself and took a deep breath. Maybe she was more tired than she had thought! She glanced around. Nobody to take over.

__

Don't be silly, she reprimanded herself. _You don't want to sleep anyway. Faramir needs you by his side._

"You should sleep," said a voice from the doorway. Èowyn turned to find Halla leaning against the doorframe. She shook her head.

"No. I must be here when he wakes up or..." she stopped abruptly, then went on. "Anyway, I'm not tired."

"You almost fell asleep a few seconds ago," he countered.

"Have you been watching me?" Èowyn crossed her arms.

Halla slipped into the room and seated himself on the edge of a table. "Yes. Yes I have."

Èowyn raised an eyebrow. "May I ask why?"

Halla leaned back, studying her. "Why were you out in the woods? Why is he injured? Why do both of your names sound so familiar?"

Èowyn held up her hands. "Look, I know it seems like a deep dark secret, but it's not. I just---I didn't want to go into it earlier. It's all very hard for me." She shook her head. "Alright, I'll make a deal with you."

Halla tilted his head.

"I'll tell you about us if you tell me about your family and why you live out here in the middle of Ithilien all alone."

"Deal," Halla said. He got up and moved to a chair by the bed. "You start."

Èowyn took a deep breath and smoothed wet hair off Faramir's brow. "The reason we sound so familiar is that...our correct titles are Lord Faramir, Steward of Gondor, Prince of Ithilien and Captain of Gondor, and Lady Èowyn, Princess of Ithilien, Slayer of the Witch-King, and Descendant of the Kings of Rohan. Eomer King is my brother."

Halla blinked and whistled slowly. "I expected something of the sort, but I never thought that..."

Èowyn lifted her chin. "I expect you to keep my secret, please. I only told you because I feel I can trust you. Don't prove to me that I have displaced my trust." Then she sighed and went on. "It's a long story: how Faramir was injured. I'm not quite sure how it all happened anyway. A week and a half ago I challenged him to a duel. He accepted, and a week later we went out to a quiet place in Ithilien and started our duel. Then..." she paused. "Then something happened inside of me and I was back on the day of the great battle in the Pelennor fields. I was fighting the witch-king. And I hurt Faramir. After I came back to reality I bound his wound, but it was deep and he lost a lot of blood. It reopened when we both fell asleep. By the time we both awoke again it was getting dark and I had to get him onto a horse. We rode, but I don't know my way so well around here, so we got lost. That's when the storm started, and we had to spend the night outside. If only I had gone a few yards over the hill and seen your house!

"Anyway in the morning Nympha found us. That's my story." Èowyn looked down to see her hands twisted in her dress, and she unclasped them, smoothing the wrinkles out. When she looked up at Halla she saw he was leaning forward. "And your tale?" she asked.

Halla leaned back again. "Simple. My father and mother were raised among the elves around Lothlorien, and when the war was over they came down here. It's been a few years, and we never really fit in too well with men, though they are our own kind. So we moved into the wild to have some privacy. I knew I had heard your names before, but I couldn't remember where. Now I know." He smiled and took Èowyn's hand in a friendly way. "Look, Lady Èowyn...I know this is all very hard on you. I should not have said what I said earlier...about your husband dying and all. There is, perhaps, a bit of hope---"

"You don't have to worry, Halla," Èowyn smiled. "It was only the truth. Of course I...wish for him to live, but if it is his time to go..." she broke off sharply and bowed her head. As she began to sob silently Halla put an arm around her awkwardly.

"Please, my lady, don't! You must be strong, for him," he whispered.

Èowyn gasped for breath and leaned against the young man. "I know---I know! But it's---all---my---fault!" she wept.

"No, no it's not," Halla soothed. "Please, don't blame yourself for what happened. It was an accident." He rubbed her arm and helped her sit up. "You're tired, Lady Èowyn. You should sleep. I'll take over and---"

"No." The word was said with such force that Halla drew back. Èowyn looked up. "No," she repeated. "I must stay by his side. But...I'd be grateful if you would join me?"

Halla nodded. "Of course. Would you like some strong tea?" he asked.

Èowyn smiled...the first for a long time. "Please," she said.

As Halla left the room to boil water, Èowyn turned her full attention on her husband. _You're always hurt by the ones you love, aren't you_, she thought. _You've dealt with more than any one man should have to deal with. 'Twas you who brought me back from the clutches of despair, and look how I repay you! Faramir, oh my love, you should have had a Numenorean woman. Not I, a wild shieldmaiden from Rohan. Look what I did to you? Can you ever forgive me?_ She bowed her head and gently took his hand between her own. _I would gladly give up the sword completely, were you to just return to me. What will I do without you? What will Elboron do without you? This is not how it's supposed to end! Oh Faramir, Faramir, can't you see that I need you?_

The hand she was holding suddenly jerked, and she looked up. Faramir's face contorted in pain, and she wasn't sure whether to be scared or glad that he was finally moving. He began to gasp, deep, shaking breaths that were edged with coughs.

"Faramir?" she said softly. "Faramir, what is going on?"

Then, for the first time in so long, it seemed, Faramir opened his eyes and looked straight at her. There was no sign of hallucination or fever in them, and he smiled weakly.

"Im na bar, Èowyn," he whispered in a quiet voice. "Im na bar."

Èowyn sobbed, low and long. Tears fell onto Faramir, who smiled and wiped them from her face. "There is no need to cry, my love. I will get well now."

Then Halla was there, gasping and putting a hand to Faramir's forehead. "I don't understand!" he murmured. "How is this possible?" He ran to the door. "Amme!" (Mother!) he cried, "Amme túl asc!" (Mother come quickly!)

Loomi was there in a snap and she too couldn't believe her eyes. "His fever has gone down a lot," she said to Èowyn. "I think maybe..."

"Yes, he will live," Èowyn said with shining eyes. Then she looked back at Faramir. "Sleep now, my love," she whispered to him. "In the morning I will explain everything to you."

Faramir smiled and closed his eyes. Within five minutes sleep had claimed him and he rested peacefully. Èowyn sat back in her chair, meaning to watch over him, but she too fell prone to the guiles of sleep, and she breathed evenly along with her husband.

Loomi pulled Halla from the room and whispered, "What happened? How is this possible?"

Halla smiled. "It's a miracle, Amme. Eru spared him."

Loomi shook her head. "It is beyond my comprehension, I'll admit to that."

The next morning found Èowyn still sleeping peacefully with the sunlight shining on her. The fresh light seemed to light up the golden color of her hair, and to Faramir, who lay watching her sleep, he could believe he was watching an angel. _There is a reason I came back,_ he smiled. _And it's right in front of me._

At that moment Èowyn stirred and opened her eyes. She smiled as she saw Faramir looking at her. "Good morning, mel," she said.

Faramir held out his hand. "Help me sit up, my love. My strength is somewhat depleted."

Èowyn took his hand. "Absolutely, Faramir. And it should be depleted...you've been thrashing in fever for three days!" She assisted him in sitting and then asked, "Please, may I sit next to you?"

Faramir's gaze met her own. " Èowyn, why ask?" he murmured. She slipped in next to him and put her arms around him.

"Faramir, please, please, _please_ forgive me!" she said in a low voice. "It's all my fault! I wounded you, and I almost lost you. I almost...killed you!" She buried her face in his shoulder and began to cry.

Faramir bit his lip. So Èowyn had all this time been blaming herself for what had happened. If he'd known that... " Èowyn, Èowyn hush! It's not your fault." He lifted her chin and looked into her teary eyes. "You've been blaming yourself the whole time, haven't you."

Èowyn gulped and nodded. "It _was_ my fault! I was the one who injured you, and I was the one who couldn't find my way back to Emyn Arnen! We had to spend the entire night out in the rain and cold because I couldn't see the house just over the hill and---"

Faramir put a finger to her lips. "Enough," he whispered. Then he kissed her gently. "I forgive you, and it is my wish that you would forget about this whole thing. From now on...I was injured when my horse threw me onto a jagged rock. Alright?" He tilted Èowyn's chin up again.

Èowyn's eyes filled with tears again. _Who am I married to?_ she asked herself for the millionth time. _What kind of man is this? I don't deserve him at all._

She had, of course, no idea that he himself was thinking, _Who is this angelic creature I'm married to? I don't half deserve her._ "Èowyn," he asked after a minute in silence, "Tell me how we got here---wherever here is---would you?"

Èowyn laughed at herself and sat up a little. "Silly me! Of course you will be wondering how we got here. Well..."

**Back in Emyn Arnen...**

_"Hush now, my baby, be still love don't cry,_

Sleep as you're rocked by the breeze.

Sleep and remember my last lullaby,

So I'll be with you when you dream."

The baby cried all the louder. Hild shushed it and rocked gently, sighing as she walked the large room. How many days since the Lord and Lady had been in their room? Three? Hild sighed again. Three too many.

As Lord Elboron's wet nurse, Hild had been summoned from Rohan to care for the child. She had a baby of her own, her little Harding, and her man had come to serve under Lord Faramir as well. His name was Herubrand.

As Hild rocked the child, she said softly, "Hush, little princeling! You're safe. Your parents will be home soon, and all shall be well." But little did she believe her own words. No one knew where Faramir and Èowyn had set out for. They had said they were going for a picnic, and naturally no one said a thing about it. They _should_ have been home by late afternoon...dusk at the latest. But they weren't.

There was no one who knew Ithilien like Lord Faramir. After all, he had been the Captain of the Rangers for years. So why should he not come home? The conclusions to be drawn were terrifying. Either they had been captured or hurt...one could decide which they wanted to believe.

Elboron was finally quieting down, and Hild set the child in his crib with a gentle kiss. "Sleep, baby," Hild whispered. Then she hurried out of the room and into the next. She tried to sew for a while, but her mind wandered down terrifying paths when she was not paying strict attention to it. Finally she stood and walked to the window.

"Herubrand!" she called as she caught sight of her husband. "What news?"

Herubrand looked up and smiled. "I'll be right up, Hild dear."

Hild began to pace the room, knotting her hands in her pockets. The search party had gone out early that morning to try to find the missing Lord and Lady.

Before long Hild heard steps on the stairway and she flung the door open. "Well?" she cried. Herubrand sighed and walked into the room.

"Let me change first, Hild. I'm soaked." He pulled his boots off slowly, holding his toes up to the flickering fire in the hearth. Hild brought him a change of clothing, and as he pulled on a fresh tunic he said heavily, "We couldn't find them."

Hild's stomach felt queasy. "What---what do you mean?" she asked.

"We searched the countryside all day and yet we couldn't find them. Where could two people and two horses go, I ask you? Where?"

Hild shook her head. "What do you think happened, Herubrand?"

Herubrand rubbed his chin, still glistening with water. "I don't know. We found no trace of them at all." With a sigh, he bent over and buckled his belt on. "Beregond refused to give up the hunt, and about seven men stayed with him. I brought the rest home with me."

Hild stood slowly and looked out the window at the wet sky and rolling hills of Ithilien. _May Eru grant him keen sight and quick wits_, she thought sadly, _so he may bring our beloved Lord and Lady back home._

**NOW REVIEW!!**


	10. Part Ten

**A/N:** Well readers, I have figured out two very interesting things about myself while writing this chapter.

**a)** I get very excited about a story and spend all my time thinking about it and writing it UNTIL the story peaks, and then I lose interest VERY fast

and

**b)** I have a rather hard time writing these end chapter where you tie up all the lose ends.

But ah well! That's life. There will be one more chapter on this story, and when I get enough reviews I'll add it. Ta!

**Duel Me?: Part Ten**

_By Dimfuin_

Beregond was shivering so hard his teeth were chattering, but he had long since stopped caring. He was bent on his mission, and he was going to fulfill it. That was final.

About half an hour ago one of his men, Arthin, had tried to dissuade him and get him to return home, but Beregond was adamant.

"I search until either I find them or I drop from trying," he had said. "You may come or go as you wish." The men had looked at each other, resigned to their fates, and kept right along with him.

In truth it didn't look hopeful. They had been searching all day long, and now it was close to seven o' clock in the evening. Beregond knew he couldn't make his men stay out all night. But he couldn't stop hoping! _To stop hoping is to be defeated_, he told himself. _And I am_ not_ defeated!_

As they entered a thicket of trees, Beregond set his mind on something to distract the worries. He thought of Duliet back at home, of Bergil. He thought of the blasted cold that had crept across the land in the last few days, he thought of...

Was that smoke?

He squinted at the outline of the hills, trying to make it out in the failing light. His throat suddenly grew tight, but he took a deep breath. He would NOT allow himself to raise false hopes. No.

"Arthin!" he called quietly, "Come here."

The man rode up, asking, "Captain?"

Beregond pointed. "What do you see over yonder?"

Arthin shaded his eyes and peered at it for a long minute. Arthin was renowned to have the keenest eyes of the guards dwelling in Emyn Arnen. Some had even knick-named him "Elf eyes" though that was far off the mark, as anyone who knew elves would know immediately. "It looks like smoke, Captain," he finally said.

Beregond sighed deeply. "Any ideas?"

"Could be a traveler---could be a cottage. We'll have to find out," Arthin said, his voice rising in eagerness. Beregond grinned at him.

"Careful soldier...we can't get out hopes up. Nor those of the rest," he said softly. Arthin nodded and fell back. Beregond turned his horse out of the thicket of trees and called, "We will try this way!"

As they rode down the hillside, Beregond heard his men give exclamations of surprise upon seeing the house that came into view. His own heart sped up, but he calmed it. There was nothing to tell him that Faramir and Èowyn were anywhere near here. Nothing but...

Laurëa.

He would know that horse anywhere, and Beregond's mouth immediately went dry. A man with light flaxen hair stood brushing the mare gently, speaking to it in elvish. He looked up upon hearing the men and horses, and his eyes grew wide.

Beregond reigned in at the gate, signaling his men to stay seated and ready. Murmurs spread through the group, and he knew the others recognized their Lord's horse as well.

"Hello there," Beregond began. The man nodded and reached a hand up to pat Laurëa.

"Greetings," he smiled. "How may I help you?"

"We seek the Prince and Princess of Ithilien. Have you made contact of any sort with them? They have been missing three days now, and we fear they were abducted or ran into grave danger," Beregond's words were said in a steady but eager voice.

Nereus shook his head. "I don't think---no---well, you see..."

In the blink of an eye Beregond was off his horse and had Nereus by the collar. "Have you seen the Lord Faramir and the Lady Èowyn, man? Speak!"

Nereus shook Beregond off and crossed his arms. "Faramir and Èowyn? Aye, they're inside the house. We found them a few days ago and---"

"Inside?" Beregond gasped. "Take me to them, I beg of you!"

Nereus glanced at the half a dozen or so men behind him. Beregond quickly said, "Arthin, Gildring, come with me. The rest of you stay here." Two men dismounted and approached, and Beregond turned back to Nereus.

"Follow me," Nereus said, and he began walking toward the door. Beregond and his men followed.

In the kitchen, Èowyn held a dishtowel in one hand and a bowl in the other and watched through the door to Faramir's room. Her husband lay on the bed watching Nympha teach him how to play _Liante natse_...spider's web. She held a string in her delicate hand and wove her fingers through it to make patterns and shapes.

"This is a bed," she was saying. "See the frame?"

Faramir nodded. "Yes, I do. That's very clever."

Nympha undid it and began again. "My Amme taught me this one. It's a broom..._First you cross your fingers so, Then you thread and let it flow. Next you pull it up away, and now you have a broom for play!_" Nympha held up the string structure proudly. "Only...brooms aren't for play, really," she went on. "They're for work. I always got confused about that part, but Amme said it was just a rhyme and that's how it went."

Faramir smiled and touched the string. "Brooms can very well be for play," he said. "It's all in the attitude. When you sweep, Nympha, what do you think of?"

"Well, usually how fast I can get done!" she said.

Faramir nodded. "But if you really want to make it fun, you can pretend you are a captive princess, locked away in a dungeon. You can pretend they are forcing you to clean the castle, and this is the only way you can save yourself. Or maybe..." he held out a hand to Nympha, who took it and sat next to him. "...you can pretend that the broom is a magic broom, and it will give you whatever you want! But nobody knows about it but you, and you can't tell anyone or they'll take it away. That way, only when no one is looking, of course, you can ask it to give you things while you're sweeping, and it will."

Nympha laughed. "I never thought of that! That sounds like so much fun!"

"You see Nympha, it's all in the mind of the pretender," Faramir smiled.

Èowyn smiled herself, again thinking about what a wonderful man she was married to. She tried to picture Boromir or Denethor doing the same thing and she shook her head. Never in a million years!

"My lady!"

Èowyn started at the voice and half turned. In a millisecond Beregond was kneeling at her feet and she had dropped the dish towel. The bowl (thankfully) she did not drop, and she set it on the counter.

"Beregond! What are you doing here?" she asked, somewhat dazed.

Beregond took her hand. "I must ask you the same, Lady Èowyn! We have been searching for days." He looked around. "I will be happy to know the tale, but please, is Lord Faramir here too?"

Èowyn nodded and pulled Beregond to his feet. "Yes, yes he's here. He's in the next room. He was wounded and was gravely ill for a few days, but is on the road to recovery now." Èowyn shook her head. "I cannot believe you found us!" Suddenly, Èowyn saw Nereus and Loomi behind Beregond, wearing shocked and dismayed expressions.

"My lady..." Loomi began, sinking to one knee. "You are the Princess of Ithilien?"

Èowyn smiled. "Please, don't be alarmed. I did not tell you for reasons I will explain later."

"Oh, but if we had known..." Nereus started.

"Nonsense! You did just as much for us as common travelers than if you had known we were nobility. And I thank you," Èowyn said. Then she grabbed Beregond's hand. "Come, I will take you to Faramir. He will be so happy!" She turned and led Beregond to the door.

As they approached, Nympha turned her head and gasped. "Somebody's coming!" she murmured, and hurried to get off the bed. Faramir straightened a tiny bit. As Èowyn and Beregond came through the door, Faramir's face expressed joy and a tiny bit of self-consciousness, but Beregond dropped to one knee again, and said, "My lord! I cannot tell you how glad I am to find you safe."

Faramir smiled. "And I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you again." A shadow crossed his face. "Is all well back in Emyn Arnen?"

Beregond nodded. "And 'twill be better with you both safely at home, Lord Faramir."

................

It was late at night and Faramir slept peacefully in the next room. Èowyn had been unable to rest herself, so instead she watched him as he slept.

She often did this, at home. She had found at a very young age that she did not require much sleep, and had often stayed up late into the night and gotten up with the sun with no problem. Her husband, too, was like that...but Èowyn believed that it was because he pushed himself to do more work. Perhaps it was out of habit, too. He had had so much to do for the first thirty or so years of his life, that he must have gotten very little rest.

But many nights since they were married Èowyn would watch him as he slept. She liked doing it; it felt as if she could protect him and keep him from harm's way when she was watching him.

This night she was especially watchful, as she sat next to him in the chair. The others had long since gone to bed. Beregond was gone---he had left for Emyn Arnen shortly after they had been found. In a few days time, when Faramir was sufficiently recovered, he would return and bring them home. Èowyn smiled. _He'll probably be back sooner,_ she thought. _Never was there a servant more devoted than Beregond._

The thought of seeing her child again sent chills up Èowyn's spine. While she knew that he was being cared for, she was nearly depressed in wishing for him. She had even entertained the thought of going back with Beregond or asking him to bring her child back...but that was foolishness. For all she knew, Faramir could have a relapse. And she didn't think she could bear separation from him anyway.

The moon crept out from behind a cloud and beamed a slender sliver of light across the room, illuminating Faramir and Èowyn's features. She bent forward, tenderly, and kissed his high brow. "No woman could ask for a better husband than you, my love," she whispered in his ear. "I love you so much."

Someone stirred outside the door, and Èowyn looked up. "Who's there?" she murmured. "Please, come in!"

A shadowy shape crept across the floor, and the next moment Nympha was beside her. "Hello," she said awkwardly. Then she threw her arms around Èowyn. "I don't want you to leave!"

Èowyn smiled to the dark night and watched the moon slip behind another cloud. "I like you too, Nympha." After a moment she added, "Would you like to speak in elvish, child? It must be easier for you."

Nympha laughed, then covered her mouth. "I don't want to wake him," she whispered in elvish. Then: "Yes, elvish is easier for me. We always speak it at home."

Èowyn nodded. They fell silent for a while, and Èowyn began to hum softly.

"What are you humming?" Nympha asked. Èowyn sighed.

"It's just a lullaby I used to sing to my son," she said.

"You have a son?" Nympha asked. "How old is he?"

"Not yet one year old," Èowyn smiled. "And I haven't seen him for days. But I'm going to go home to him soon."

"Can I---" Nympha trailed off and shook her head.

"What?" Èowyn asked with a smile. "Ask, darling."

"Can I maybe come to visit you?" Nympha blurted out.

Èowyn hugged the girl. "Of course Nympha! You must come to visit often, and you may see Elboron, my son. He'll like you."

Nympha reached out and patted Faramir. "And he's going to be alright?"

"Yes," Èowyn said firmly. "He's going to be just fine."

With another hug, Nympha scampered out of the room and went back to her bed. Èowyn herself stood up, preparing to return to her room, but she turned back at the last minute. With a smile, she slipped into bed beside her husband and put her arms around his thin form.

"I'll never let you get hurt again, my Faramir," she murmured into his ear. And as if he had heard her, he smiled to the darkness.

_......................_

Liante natse is Middle Earth's version of Cat's Cradle.


	11. Part Eleven

**A/N:** Ok, well here we are, at the end. I hope you enjoyed this, because I know I did!

**Duel Me?: Part Eleven**

_By Dimfuin_

"A gentle breeze from Hushabye Mountain,

Softly blows o'er Lullaby Bay.

It fills the sails of boats that are waiting,

Waiting to sail your worries away.

It isn't far to Hushabye Mountain,

And your boat waits down by the key.

The winds of sleep so softly are sighing,

Waiting to blow your troubles to sea.

So close your eyes on Hushabye Mountain,

Wave goodbye to cares of the day.

And watch your boat, from Hushabye Mountain

Sail far away from Lullaby Bay." 

The soft sound of the feminine voice drifted over the banister into the fine weather outside and down the paths to the garden. Not a leaf stirred, the day was so still, and all the water in the pools lay calm and cool.

Èowyn smiled down at her son and touched the tip of his nose with her finger. How beautiful he really was! She had been so worried about him, the dear thing. She knew one thing for sure: never again would she be parted from her child for so long.

Secretly, Èowyn was beginning to suspect something else...something wonderful and mysterious. She was waiting to tell Faramir, though, because she needed to be certain about something this big before exciting her husband. Èowyn knew how hard Faramir tried to be a good father to their son. She knew his doubts that he wouldn't be as loving to his second child, that he would somehow warp into his father, but she also knew that that could never be. She knew his strength of character, and she knew how much he loved her and their children. And yet, this issue needed to be broken gently to him.

An arm slipped around her waist, and she caught her breath. "Did I startle you?" Faramir's voice asked behind her. There was a smirk in his voice that couldn't be masked.

Èowyn drew herself up. "Never," she lied. Faramir chuckled and kissed her neck.

"Liar," he murmured.

Èowyn turned, the baby cradled in her arms. "You should not be walking about so, my love. The healers said..."

"I do not care what the healers said!" Faramir sighed. "They would have me lie abed for weeks yet, no doubt. I cannot be still, Èowyn, not while there is so much work to do."

"Ah, but if you are to be of any use in the coming months you must recover sufficiently. Really, my lord, you are acting as I did when I was a wayward shieldmaiden in the Houses of Healing!" Èowyn admonished.

Faramir shook his head and reached out his arms for the baby. Èowyn smiled and lay the child in her husband's arms, brushing hands with him. "You are too thin," she sighed.

"I am just fine," Faramir retorted. "And yes, I will go back to my prison in a minute. I just wanted to see my son." He smiled down at the babe and rocked gently. "He's gotten so big, hasn't he Èowyn?"

Èowyn nodded. i _Is now the time? /i _ she wondered. She looked up at her husband's face, studying it. He was gazing down at Elboron with shining eyes, admiring the baby's delicate features. One of Elboron's tiny hands curled languidly around Faramir's finger and Èowyn made up her mind.

"Faramir?" she asked.

He looked up and smiled. "Yes?"

Èowyn leaned back against the railing. "There is something I must tell you."

"What is it?" Faramir asked, slight worry darkening his face. "Is something wrong?"

"No, not this." Èowyn's voice must have expressed her excitement, and she went on. "I'm very happy about it. You see---"

"Another child," Faramir breathed. Èowyn laughed.

"You have read my mind, Faramir. Aye, another babe." She touched his arm. "Does this please you?"

For a split-second Èowyn could see the fear on his face, but in a twinkling it was gone. His eyes sparkled and he held the baby closer to himself. "I cannot think of anything that could make me happier. Thank you, Èowyn." He leaned forward and brushed his lips against her own. As they touched, the child in between them gave a startled cry and began to wail loudly.

"It never fails, does it?" Faramir moaned as Èowyn took the squalling child.

"'Tis what comes of having children, Lord Faramir," Èowyn replied. "And soon there will be another to care for."

Faramir smiled and hugged her warmly, avoiding the crying baby. "I love you," he said.

"And I you. Now off to your bed!" Èowyn laughed. "I don't want an ill husband anymore!"

As Faramir left the terrace, Èowyn suddenly called, "Faramir!"

He turned and raised an eyebrow. "You're...you're not wearing black!" she smiled.

Indeed he was not---his tunic was of dark green. Faramir nodded slowly. "It's still dark, but I'm working my way up," he said. Èowyn beamed at him.

"I will never deserve you," she replied.

"Nor I you," he whispered. And then he went inside.

The baby soon quieted, and she rocked him slowly, humming again. How things had worked out! Her Faramir was safe, and if his embrace was not as strong as it was previously and his walk not as brisk, that could be cured in time. She was reunited with her baby, and another was coming in a few months. Truly, Eru had been good to them.

__

_ And watch your boat, from Hushabye Mountain_

Sail far away from Lullaby Bay

**The End **

**A/N:** Ok, so here's the deal. In about...oh, a week or two, I'll post another story titled "Just Like My Father", a tragedy concerning Faramir. Yes, I know it sound horrible, but my betas think it's an awesome story, so I hope you'll like it. Keep your eyes peeled! 


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